


Overgrown

by gettingby



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, F/F, Fem SnowBaz, Fluff, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, covid haircuts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25267009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gettingby/pseuds/gettingby
Summary: Fem!SnowBazBaz gives her girlfriend a haircut.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 6
Kudos: 70





	Overgrown

**Author's Note:**

> Y’all got me with this Fem!Snowbaz. I’m obsessed.

“Oh, come on!” Simon groans and tosses the Switch controller on the couch. “I was so close!” 

I smirk as she roughly paws at her overgrown curls. “I can’t do this anymore. I would never have hit that last green shell if I could actually see!”

“Excuses, excuses,” I tut, leaning in closer to fix Simon’s hair where she’s messed it up with her outburst.

She’s so lovely, even like this. Especially like this. Flushed and furious, the way I made her feel at Watford. The way we made each other feel.

It’s better now, though. Because her tail is wrapped around my thigh and it makes me feel secure and loved in a way I never did back then.

“I’m serious,” she says, leaning away from my grasp. “This is the last straw. I’m not losing another round of Mario Kart to you because of your unfair advantage.”

I raise an eyebrow. “My excellent hand-eye coordination has nothing to do with being a vampire, Snow.”

“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about this.” She tugs at my high ponytail. “Your hair doesn’t get in your face when you’re playing.”

It’s been three months in quarantine now. Simon’s hair grows like a weed - she usually needs her fade cleaned up once a month. Right now, the sides are puffing out with the beginnings of bronze curls. The top spills over her eyes completely. She’s going to pull a muscle in her neck if she keeps flipping it off her forehead the way that she does. 

“I’m going to just shave it off,” she grumbles. I watch in horror as she gets up from the sofa and disappears into the bathroom.

When I walk in, she’s frowning at my electric razor. “How does this work?”

“You’re not shaving your head, Simon.” Not that she wouldn’t look delicious with any haircut. But I’m weak for those curls. It would be a crime to cut them off.

“I can’t get into the barber right now,” she pouts. “And I can’t go on like this.”

“And you accuse me of being dramatic.” I stand behind her and take the razor from her hands, setting it down on the counter. I’m glad that her wings are already spelled off so I can press myself close against her back. I watch her eyes flutter closed in the mirror as I card my hands through her hair. “How about I give you a haircut?”

“With magic?”

“There’s no spell for haircuts, you numpty.” I pull up some YouTube videos on my phone. How difficult could this be? I graduated top of my class at Watford and LSE.

Simon settles back against my chest, smiling as I continue playing with her hair. “Alright. I trust you.”

“Of course you do.” I duck my head to hide a fond grin.

“Plus, if you do bollocks it up, I’ll shave it off after all.”

I snort. That’s serious motivation for me to get this right.

I set my phone against the mirror and grab some scissors from the cupboard. (You’re supposed to use special ones, but I can sharpen these with magic.) “Alright. You’ve got to wet your hair, love.”

She dunks her hair in the sink and I gently brush it flat, making sure it’s wet evenly. 

I’ve found a YouTube tutorial specifically for curly hair. I grab my wide-tooth detangling comb and try to get it as straight and even as possible. Then I get my fine-tooth comb and use it to pull some of the growth taut.

“Mm,” Simon hums, leaning into the pull of the comb. I pinch her hip gently. “Stay still, for Merlin’s sake.”

She exhales and I adjust her body so that she’s standing straight and even. This would be easier sitting down, actually.

I release the comb from her hair. “Come on, let’s do this in the bedroom. You should probably get undressed, too.”

Once we’re in the bedroom, Simon strips down to her too-small sports bra (I need to do something about that, although I don’t mind the view) and boy-cut pants. The moles all over her back and neck are on full display. I pull off my cropped silk button-down. I’m not wearing a bra underneath, so I slip on a bralette for comfort. I put on stretchy yoga shorts instead of my tight, high waisted denim ones.

We sit on a thin blanket in front of my full-length mirror and Simon settles between my thighs. I feel the buzz of arousal that’s been in my bones all day spike - but I need to focus. (Maybe I can wash her hair afterwards. Enjoy a long shower together...)

“Alright, straighten up, and stay very still.”

Simon wiggles her eyebrows in the mirror. “You’ll have to put a shirt on if you want me to straighten up.”

“Shut up,” I mumble. My blush gives it all away. Even now, after all these years, nothing knocks me off center like Simon’s compliments. I spent so much of my life pining after her, resigned that she’d never be attracted to me. The constant validation that she is makes me swoon every time.

I suck in a nervous breath as I pull her hair upwards with the comb and prepare to cut. It evaporates as I catch Simon’s eyes in the mirror and she gives me a soft smile of support. I snip off the first lock.

I’m trying to preserve the length as much as possible while keeping it out of her eyes. What can I say - I’m selfish.

It takes two hours just to finish the top - I keep stopping to reference the video and to check her hair from a variety of angles. Her hair’s completely dry halfway through, but I realise it’s actually easier to see what I’m doing with her curls preserved. I’ve cut it shorter near the front and gently blended it to a longer length towards the crown of her head, then short again in the back. 

I grab the razor and plug it in with a fresh blade. This part I can do, I think. I had an undercut in university that I touched up every so often.

When I’m done, I take photos from a few different angles to show Simon. She gasps.

“Wow. I’m always jealous at how good you are at stuff when you first try it.”

“It’s because I’m patient and actually follow instructions, Snow.”

She shakes her head like a dog. Though the curls do tumble forward a bit, they stay above her eyes. Satisfied, she twists around and kisses me, first gently, then firmer...

I let her push me back against the blanket for longer than I intended. But when one of her hairs finds its way into my mouth, I push her off.

“C’mon, Snow. Time for a shower.”

Later, when we’re laying in bed, sated and freshly washed with Simon’s hair soaking a wet spot into the pillow, she tucks a thick strand of hair behind my ear and kisses the tip of my nose. (I’m self conscious of it, but she says it’s sexy.) “Can I cut your hair, too?”

“Absolutely not,” I reply, horrified. She laughs into my shoulder. “I didn’t think so. Y’know what I want now?”

“Hm?” I’d give her anything when she’s curled into me like this. Especially after the mind-blowing orgasm I had in the shower. (And the second one when we crawled into bed right after.)

“A rematch.” She lifts her head to look me in the eyes. They’re so blue and I can’t look away. “Now that I can actually see, I’m going to destroy you in Mario Kart.”


End file.
